Vive les Aristos - Vive la France!
by Iluna Sorgina Talis
Summary: The French Revolution-France is desperately searching for the girl he had sworn to protect-an aristo that the revolutionists wanted dead. The good news he had delivered to her had only made her more upset, and she had run off. K because of the guillotine and I'm a bit paranoid...used for an English project, I may upload the rewrite, sorry if it's choppy!


France pushed his way through the crowd, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He couldn't believe he had lost track of her, not at a time like this. He blew a lock of blonde hair out of his sky-blue eyes—his hair was escaping from the ribbon he had pulled it back with, but he didn't care. If only I hadn't come, he berated himself. Then she would never have run off like this. She would not have been angry with me.

His mind flashed back to the conversation he had had with her just minutes before. He had come to her hiding place to tell her some good news. "I've made arrangements with England," he had told her. "He promised to send some of his agents to get you out of here and to safer quarters. They'll help keep you safe and then you can come back when the Revolution dies down." He had been so excited to tell her, to let her know she would be safe…

"'When the revolution dies down?'" she had repeated, anger coloring her voice. "What about 'when I've stopped this madness?'" She had stepped away from him, her light brown eyes filled with frustration and fear. "Is that all you came here for?" she asked. "To tell me that you're going to help me run? You're not going to tell me that you've come up with a plan to end this?"

France winced at the recollection. He had only meant to console her, give her hope. But it seemed that his attempt at doing so had only released her pent-up frustrations and anger. He hated seeing her like this—he was used to seeing her excited, strong, happy. When she was sad, broken, unhappy in any way, he would feel his heart shatter. And it's my fault this time.

"Have you done nothing to help? What has the great country of France done to support his people, hm?" she asked. When he said nothing, she yelled "Nullité—nothing!" Her brown hair was covering her eyes, but he could still see the tears falling from them. "Your queen has been condemned to die, Francis!" she cried, using his human name. "Your king has already been killed, and their children's fates are undecided!"

"A bas les aristos!" the crowd screamed as France moved through it. "Vive la République!"

Down with the aristos…long live the Republic…

"And my friends!" Her words still haunted him. "They're all dead, or soon will be! Just yesterday I received word that the Marquis de St. Cyr and his entire family were sent to the guillotine! My best friends—dead!" She was sobbing now, pain and fear escaping in liquid form. "And I will be too, if you don't fix this!"

And I will be too…

"I'm going to stop this," she had told him, taking her pistol out of her belt, "or at least make the first step." Those words haunted him still, even minutes after they were spoken.

"Où allez-vous?" he had asked, but she had ignored him. He had heard her walking down the stairs of the tenement house. But it wasn't until he had heard the door open and then shut that he realized what she was doing. He had raced down the steps, taking two at a time. But after he had opened the door, he had realized that he couldn't see the young woman anywhere.

She must be here somewhere, he thought wildly, checking faces, calling out her name. "Regine! Regine!" he called, frantically looking for the missing woman. "Où êtes-vous? Oh, Regine, where are you?!" He had no idea where the crowd was taking him—he only hoped that it would lead him to her.

"ABATTAGE L'ARISTO!"

France froze when he heard the cruel words—kill the aristo. Slowly looking up, his heart plummeted from his chest into his stomach. He hadn't seen where the crowd was going, and now he realized with horror that they were standing in front of the platform of the guillotine.

And Regine was standing there, bold as can be, facing the bloodthirsty crowd. She had been bound by the two men in black that stood on either side of her, but she was not fighting. Instead, she was calling out prayers, eyes shut tight, over the noise of the crowd. "Regine, NON!" he screamed, trying to make himself heard over their shouts.

Regine opened her eyes and looked down at the crowd. "I have something to say to you all," she called, "before I am taken." She raised a fist in the air, and as she did so her eyes fell on France. She smiled gently at him and mouthed "Je t'aime" at him before turning back to the crowd. No, he thought, no! "Vive les aristos!" she called. "Vive la France!"

The crowd roared with anger and the two men in black forced her to the guillotine. They forced her on her stomach and put her head in the lunette. She turned her head so she could see France one more time, smiling as a tear fell down her cheek. The man in black raised his hand, and then let it drop as his companion pulled the lever to release the blade.

"REGINE!"


End file.
